


Until the Snow Falls

by ViAwkwardPerson



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), High Hopes Low Rolls (Web Series)
Genre: Buried Alive, Dungeons & Dragons 5th Edition, Hypothermia, Kinda, M/M, Mentions of Death, Panic Attacks, Suicidal Thoughts, basically paddy is trapped in a cave and waiting for help, high hopes low rolls, malark is not having a good time, maybe someday i'll learn how to tag lmao, none of the characters are mine, one day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2020-03-26 14:01:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19007251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViAwkwardPerson/pseuds/ViAwkwardPerson
Summary: The first time Paddy laid eyes on Malark, noting his striking eyes, and recalled the suspicion as well as the interest that had arisen. Paddy relived the unadulterated fear when Malark was about to sacrifice himself to two krakens, both assassins from Malark's old guild. Paddy also recalled the last time he died, and remembered the last look Malark gave him before he went under. He also remembered the indescribable look in the assassin's eyes when he first saw him again. He had never seen the look before, and hadn’t seen it ever since.





	1. until the snow falls

**Author's Note:**

> yes i am posting this from a school computer,,, every other computer within a five mile radius seems to hate anything but youtube lmao

It was cold and cramped in the cave.

There were only a few streaks of light peeking out from between the big, jagged rocks that had sealed the entrance. Paddy could crawl about three paces in all directions and just barely lift his head. The party had been frantically trying to look for somewhere to find shelter in a storm which was quickly becoming a full blown blizzard. Paddy had spotted the cave, decided to inspect it, and went in. When he was in the middle of the cavern, the ceiling of the cave collapsed, trapping the elf in.

It was likely that the party only noticed Paddy’s absence about five minutes before. Paddy wondered who it was that first took note of it. He tried to move his numbing fingers and noted that he could barely feel his fingertips. He was regretting buying those fingerless gloves.

He pulled his cloak tighter around his body, letting his cheeks get buried by the leaves that adorned his hood. If there was any good source of light in that cave with anyone else with him, they would have noticed his entire face being flushed and the tips of Paddy’s nose and his lips turning bluer by the second.

Paddy started to shiver more and more, until it was a violent shake that didn’t stop. He was frozen to the bone, with snow in his eyelashes and frost on his cheeks. He vaguely wondered if the party was looking for him by then, and if they could figure out where he was. 

They would have to be there soon.

His eyes started to droop. He didn’t have enough energy to cast any spell of sorts. He could only hope that his tracks outside hadn’t already been covered. But the snow that was quickly piling in the cave through the fallen boulders didn’t give him much hope. If they hadn’t already found where he was, he would be dead within the hour. He was well aware of that chilling fact.

But tried as hard as he might, he couldn’t find it within himself and his chattering teeth to produce anything more than a whisper. He thought he might’ve heard voices outside and he tried harder, but after a moment he realized that it was just the ferocious wind. The party couldn’t even be out there even if half the party was stuck with him; the storm was too much.

But Paddy still tried to listen through the chatter of his own teeth. Even as the small slivers of light through the rocks began to fade.

He thought he heard a muffled voice. One too deep to be the wind. He tried to shake himself awake.

He tried to stand up to go to the edge of the rocks, but as he stood on his shaky, hypothermic legs, he collapsed. Snow and a couple of pebbles fell from the ceiling of the cave.

He thought he heard the voice again, only louder. He could barely make out what it said.

“Paddy!”

His eyes widened as much as they could in their frozen state.

He tried to manage a crawl, to get closer, but he fell once more and more snow and this time slightly larger rocks started to fall from the ceiling, but they didn’t stop.

He only had a couple minutes at best. One minute at worst before the structure fell on him.

He heard the voice again, the closest and loudest it’s been.

“Paddy!” The voice called, and it dawned on Paddy that it was Malark. And with the dawn came a hope welling up inside of the wood elf.

Snow was falling more rapidly now, and the Malark’s call was getting farther away.

Paddy, with what little he had left, screamed, “Malark!”

Paddy was up to his forearms in snow now. Middle-sized rocks were falling now. The cave was going to collapse on him. The other rogue’s voice wasn’t getting any closer.

“Malark!”

The voice stopped.

Paddy’s eyes drooped. His energy was at its end, taken away by the cold.

Paddy, too tired to come up with anything comprehensive, did the one thing he could do and screamed his throat raw.

The snow reached his face now, his body buried by the snow and rocks. Paddy couldn’t feel anything. He had given up on crawling as was now just lying there, getting completely covered by the mixture of snow and rocks.

Paddy’s eyes drooped again, this time staying closed for a little longer than before.

Malark was right outside the cave now, and maybe a few others. Paddy couldn’t really tell, it was a fight to even stay conscious. 

They were trying to dig him out. They almost got there, too. Out of the corner of his eye, Paddy saw Malark through the cracks of the rocks and the snow that was covering his eyes.

Paddy could only blink and then, the cave collapsed and the snow came tumbling down on top of him.

Paddy couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. He was so tired. And cold. He couldn’t see anything. Flitting in and out of consciousness, he couldn’t think about anything else. While he was unconscious, he lived through different moments of his life again. The first spell he cast, the first time he held a dagger, those kinds of moments. But also the first time he laid eyes on Malark, noting his striking eyes, and recalled the suspicion as well as the interest that had arisen. He relived the unadulterated fear when Malark was about to sacrifice himself to two krakens, both assassins from his old guild. He also recalled the last time he died, and remembered the last look Malark gave him before he went under. He also remembered the indescribable look in his eyes when he first saw him again. He had never seen the look before, and hadn’t seen it again.

~~~~~~

Malark was the one to pull Paddy out from the snow. The body was colder than ice, and unmoving other than a miniscule rise and fall of the elf’s chest.

Paddy weakly flitted his eyes half open, and managed a smile when he met Malark’s eyes.  
And for the first time in a long while, he saw the look in Malark’s pale blue eyes once more. And he felt Malark’s arms wrapped against him in a hug.

It was warm in Malark’s embrace.


	2. and the icy fear swallows you whole.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> malark is trying his best and failing miserably to stay calm.
> 
>  
> 
> (read: malark is having a very, very bad day. this includes panic attacks and low key suicidal thoughts.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't seen anything High Hopes related since early October. For all I know both paddy and malark are both perma-dead. So, if any of this could never plausibly happen, it's an au. because.

It had been thirty minutes. Which, usually, wouldn’t be something to be concerned about.

It was a blizzard that was more ice than snow, and even those who wore proper clothing weren’t prepared for the bitter cold.

It wasn’t the cold that bothered Malark; it was the fact that a certain wood-elf was missing. The others, which he barely knew the names of, didn’t think anything was amiss. But as the minutes ticked by, the growing feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach only grew like a cancer. Thirty-five minutes, thirty-six, thirty-seven. It was when Paddy hadn’t been seen in forty minutes that Malark left the cave acting as shelter, against the other members of High Hopes’ wishes.

He tried to find the place that Paddy was last seen. Even when they had been together, the visibility was next to nothing, and all that could be seen clearly was your breath. Malark rummaged through his memory. There was… a dark figure? A tree - that must be it. It was by a tree, Malark’s pretty sure.

_Pretty sure?_ His anxiety-filled mind asked. He tried to push down his qualms and even his breathing, how Paddy taught him, as the frigid fear spread to his chest, threatening to chill him to the bone - more than he already was.

Forty-five.

The sense of dread that had developed in the pit of his stomach quickly turned to panic as he couldn’t even find a tree, or the sky, or the ground, or where he had come from. When putting out his hand to try and orient himself, he realized he couldn’t even see his gloves. Sweat started to drip down his neck, even though it must’ve been at least fifteen below with the savage winds threatening to knock Malark down with every step he took.

“Paddy!” He called. He stumbled in the snow and caught himself.

“Whitlaw!”

Forty-nine.

No answer. As the minutes ticked by, Malark kept trying to swallow the fear.

He was dimly aware that even if he did find Paddy, there was a large possibility that Malark would find a limp body.

It was going to be Malark’s first Winter Veil with the party the next day. It was supposed to be a celebration.

It was going to be spent mourning his fellow rogue.

Malark’s eyes stung, and not just from the wind.

Fifty-five.

He called out again.

“Paddock!”

Malark swallowed the lump in his throat.

Sixty minutes and then even he would have to accept the fact that Paddy would be dead.

Malark started going faster, and screaming louder, and breathing started to stray and become more erratic, his entire being filled with the pure terror of the possibility of Paddy the wood-elf not being there to spend time with watching leaves flow through rivers and streams, sighing at their other party member’s stupidity, and talking during late nights where they couldn’t sleep.

Those late nights, where he had thought of past friends that he had considered family that had passed, and like a button had been pressed that flung him into a state where his fear of almost everything had threatened to swallow him whole.

“Paddy!”

That elf had taught him what to do when there seemed to be nothing left worth doing, when it seemed that everyone you had once cared about had been taken away and that even though that was years ago, the wounds had been reopened like the battles where they were created had been yesterday.

Everyone eventually left Malark. He was doomed to be alone, forever. For the majority of his life, the rogue didn’t mind. Prefered it that way, really.

For the first time in a long time, Malark was downright terrified of the prospect of loneliness. Paddy had helped change that. He felt like he belonged, in a strange way.

The wood-elf had taught him how, when thinking of the people that had passed on, leaving you feeling utterly alone, to just breathe. And take a step. And then another.

High Hopes wouldn’t be the same without the Whitlaw.

Malark turned around. Tears started to slowly fall.

“Paddy!” He shouted, one last time.

Fifty-seven minutes.

Three minutes left.

Malark could barely feel his limbs. He wanted to crawl into a ditch and, quite frankly, never wake up again.

A tiny voice found it’s way into Malark’s ears. It was so faint, so small, and it shouldn’t have carried itself over the wind. But it did.

“Malark!” Rang a familiar voice. One that had spent countless hours talking to him during lates nights and dosing off on his lap, contently watching streams and rivers carry leaves to unknown destinations on different journeys and adventures.

Malark had never turned faster in his life, but his boot caught and he tripped, losing his sense of direction.

Frantic screaming. It was from his left. Malark tried to get up, but he had twisted his ankle.

Malark tried and tried to stand, and each and every time, he fell, and each time, the screaming got weaker and weaker as it’s owner got closer to death’s door.

The screaming stopped, and Malark, running on anxiety alone, stood, and sprinted towards the direction that it had came from, ringing in Malark’s ears. He almost hit a tree, but hit a wall of snow and rock instead. It was a cave-mouth, blocked from an avalanche. He felt hot blood dripping down his face as his nose bled. Still, he began to claw his way through.

Fifty-eight.

He scraped and scratched and cut his fingers on razor sharp pieces of debris. He could almost feel his steaming blood mixing with the snow. He was muttering incessantly to himself.

It would have sounded like he was talking to a group, but if anyone listened closely, they would have only heard:

“Please, Paddy, please please…”

Lightning flashed, and he saw Paddy’s face through a crack. His eyes were closed, chest almost deadly still.

“Don’t be dead.”

Tears threatened to stream down his face. He tried to blink them away.

“I love you.”

Sixty.

Malark tore through and pulled away a decently sized boulder, enough to be able to get to his friend.

He sprinted to Paddy.

The elf was buried in snow. His face was almost frozen and he had bits of ice stuck to his skin. The tips of his nose and his cheeks were blue.

Tears blurred his vision.

He began to gasp and cough and his vocal chords began to make strangled cries. He could feel his heart pounding blood through his ears.

In that moment, the icy fear had fallen and buried him whole. He pulled Paddy close, and hugged him, clutching onto him for dear life. It felt like several eternities and the age of the universe had passed. He knew he had to go. Take a breath and then a step.

But, just as Malark had stood up to walk away from it all, Paddy weakily flitted his eyes half-open and gave Malark a weak smile.

Relief flooded into him, like finding a pristine river after days in a cruel, blazing desert.

He immediately bent down again and hugged him, more careful and less panicked now, as if holding a young child made of glass in the middle of a battlefield.

Paddy was already unconscious again as Malark made his way out of that cave.

Paddy didn’t hear the way Malark shakily repeated:

“I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't really written anything not school related since around that time, too. this was also meant to be posted on halloween but school sucked. so. happy christmas.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll admit, not my best work, but i first wrote the draft at like midnight-one am so,,,
> 
> none of the characters are mine, they are a part of high hopes low rolls!
> 
> paddy belongs to abd-illustrates and malark to phillip_lee77 (instagram)!!
> 
> i think i covered all that i needed to, if i missed anything please let me know!! thanks!


End file.
